During this last week as Obama unveiled a new plan for Afghanistan, I had the realization that my entire adolescence was and it looks very likely that my entire young adulthood will be during a state of war. Sometimes Iraq and Afghanistan seem so very far away and removed, and I don't think constantly about the wars. Yet, how has it affected my psychology and especially my political psychology? More importantly, how is it affecting the younger generation who have no memories of an America not at war? What does that do to a child for whom distant war and conflict has become normalized? How will that affect our future, when these children begin leading our country?

It's strange, because this war is such a distant, simmering thing. We all understand the possibility of terrorist attacks after 9/11 and have some vague notion that our actions in the Middle East could be an impetus for further attacks, but overall I feel the average American feels safely removed from the conflict... until a friend of a friend or, worse yet, a loved one comes home in a body bag. It's this constant shadow that looms on and keeps taking lives, but meanwhile we keep living a fairly normal existence.

Don't get me wrong, I understand more than most what it's like for Americans in other countries, from Europe to Asia to the Middle East. I suppose when you're overseas, especially in Europe and the Middle East, you live with a greater awareness of the conflict, but I would contend that unless you are actually physically in Afghanistan, Iraq, or Pakistan or know somebody there, it's still your government's war, not your own. We, as a people, have not embraced this war (and I would contend neither has their been widespread rejection), and yet it continues.

I cannot say I have any major point to make here. I merely wished to reflect on the sobering reality of this chronic conflict. In a few months, 30,000 young men and women will be deployed into a living hell. Those who live will wear the scars of the conflict in their eyes for years after other scars heal (if they do). Over Thanksgiving break, I flew through an airport where probably 1/3 of the passengers were men and women returning from Afghanistan and Iraq. The heaviness in that airport was more tangible than I'd ever felt, and as Obama announced the new surge, I thought of them, and I prayed for them. I also prayed for the people of Aghanistan, Iraq, and Pakistan. Their scars will be visible every time they look out their windows.

I do not say any of this to say that this new surge is right or wrong. I'm a near pacifist, but I also realize that our country is already there, and therefore it's hard to justify simply walking away without some efforts of protecting the people. It's a terrible mess we're in, and I have no answers. I simply wish that killing people was a viable option for either side. So long as it is, my prayers will continue to remain with all people on all sides of the equation whose lives will be devastated by this mess.

Dear Friends and Family,

It has been a long time since I last wrote here. It is hard to update, because so many of the best stories I simply cannot post here. Even without names, if the wrong person stumbled upon this site, they could figure out which students I was discussing just based on the stories. I still write the stories down, but I find much of what I write, I cannot post. Yet I feel an update is in order.

First, on Tuesday I finally got my enormous SmartBoard installed and running. I cannot even say what a blessing this is, especially in a low-income school, where such high technology can never be taken for granted. Though I  have not had time to do a lot with it yet and I have not been able to get it hooked up to internet yet, already I have seen what an amazing asset a SmartBoard is to a teacher's room.

For those of you who don't know what a SmartBoard is, it is essentially an electronic board that hooks up to a computer and can be used just like a marker board (without all the mess) AND a computer. The screen/board is fully touch sensitive, so I can surf the internet with it and it becomes just like a touch screen monitor OR I can run videos on which I can draw and point to specifics OR I can turn ordinary PowerPoint presentations into fun, interactive games. Thankfully today and tomorrow are the Louisiana conference on technology, so I'm getting lots of great ideas on how to use it.

Secondly, on Tuesday I also got a new student. The SmartBoard could not have come at a better time, because this child is both hearing and visually impaired. The SmartBoard allows me to keep her attention better than I otherwise would have, and I'm going to need that a lot with her. I've got a lot to learn quickly through teaching this child. Thankfully, one of the other sixth graders told her (in front of me) that I'm a little crazy. Such an image can only help.

In terms of the other stuff -- the rough stuff, the emotional stuff, the stuff that this job is really all about... well, on Monday, my sixth graders and I were discussing the book Number the Stars (some of you may remember one boy reading the book earlier in the year, but now the entire class is for our historical fiction unit) when they asked me what the Star of David was. I showed them on the board, and we discussed the meaning and also the meaning of the title of the book. When I explained that the words "number the stars" comes from the promise in the Jewish and Christian Bible where God promised Abraham that his descendants would number the stars, which the Jews are a result of, one girl looked at me and asked very poignantly, "So then all those who hate Jews, really be hating Abraham?" I smiled at her quick understanding. Then they asked me what a swastika was, and I immediately knew this would be a longer conversation. After all, the shadow of the KKK has not lifted off Pointe Coupee yet. So I told them that this was a symbol I was not comfortable drawing. I tried to describe it to them, thinking some of them might have seen it before, but then I decided on showing them on the computer (remember I did not have a SmartBoard yet). We all went to the back of my classroom, and my students circled around me as I found photos of Germany during the WWII era. Sadly, and not unexpectedly, I heard their audible reactions as they recognized the symbol.

I have no words for how proud I was of the maturity levels of my sixth graders. They are such a great group. Older than the average 6th graders, they are very much at the age where realizing their racial identity is an important developmental step. They go to an all-African American school, which has delayed many racial encounters, but the fact that they are part of a racial minority has begun to matter to them in a way my fourth graders don't even think about. So, without any words spoken, they all sat down and made themselves comfortable where they were (huddled behind the computer), I turned around to face them, and they began talking. They had stories to tell of the KKK or other racial encounters, and they certainly had lots of fears to talk about. They had frustrations and confusions, and they wanted to talk about slavery and today. I had no clue that this conversation was going to come pouring out at that moment.

I felt humbled to be a part of that conversation. After all, they have many black teachers with whom that conversation could have been held. I'm glad they felt the safety to talk in front of me. In the end, we ended the lesson with a conversation about "standing for peace in a violent world." Ha, I suppose my pacifist Messiah education helped prepare me for that moment! It was interesting, though, because one of my students had been in a car that received five bullet holes over break, and I definitely choked up as I looked this student in the eye and told them all that they have to live long enough to be able to stand up for peace. They have to be careful about the places they go and with whom they choose to associate, because they can't make a stand if they're already dead. It was emotional for all of us, as they thought about those that have died to violence and I thought about the statistics society waves of special education students from low-income neighborhoods. I love those kids, and I want them to live and to make a difference in this world. They're good kids.

My fourth graders are still incredibly difficult, and my sixth graders are no cake walk. Oftentimes, I'm very discouraged. Yet, there's no question that I love my kids. I wish teaching were easier, and I wish teaching in a failing school was easier, but maybe "failing" will someday be a word of the past to describe the school. Today some teachers were discussing what a difference TFA is making in the two elementary schools it's at in Pointe Coupee. It amazed me to hear them, because I don't feel that we are, but perhaps they're right. Perhaps in the midst of all the discouragement, change is secretly and quietly creeping into our midst... or, perhaps, kids are merely learning. :)

Kara